Without wasting time, they got into the car together.
At the exhibit, Solenne finally managed a smile. Rockwell followed behind her, smiling too.
Whenever she stopped in front of a painting for more than two minutes, he would quietly call over a staff member and buy it for her on the spot.
Around them, many visitors who loved art but couldn’t afford to buy any could only admire the works on display. When they saw what Rockwell was doing for Solenne, they couldn’t help but cast envious glances her way.
“She’s so lucky,” someone murmured. “That man must love her so much to buy all those expensive paintings just for her.”
“Every single painting here costs at least a million,” someone else whispered. “And he’s already bought more than a dozen!”
Solenne heard all the quiet, admiring whispers—but felt nothing.
Maybe the funniest joke she’d ever heard in her life… was that Rockwell loved her.
After about an hour, she had seen the entire exhibit. She told Rockwell she was going to the restroom.
But when she came back, she saw Rockwell locked in a fight with a French guy in his late 30s or early 40s.
The blue-gray-eyed guy with dark brown hair had already taken a brutal punch to the face—his cheek was swollen.
All she heard was Rockwell’s threatening voice. “If you dare slander Chesca again, I swear I’ll beat you to death!”
At first, the French guy fought fiercely with Rockwell. But the former soon lost stamina and began to falter. Realizing he was no match, he started yelling in frustration.
“Do people here all like to solve things with violence? I was just telling the truth, and you beat me up for it?
“Chesca married me for my money—then had the nerve to cheat on me! Every time I wasn’t home, she’d invite four or five men over for hookups!
“If I hadn’t come back early one day and caught them, she would’ve kept me in the dark forever!
“I’ve got surveillance footage and pictures to prove it. See for yourself!”
He shoved his phone in Rockwell’s face.
On the screen, Chesca was clearly engaged with five men. One in front, one behind, and the others using her hands and feet. Her expression was one of overwhelming pleasure—completely immersed, even speaking in French, whispering filthy words meant to arouse them.
There was no sign of resistance. No trace of being forced.
As Rockwell watched, his expression reddened.